Wiley Cash - This Dark Road to Mercy

“Whatever,” he said. He climbed down from the bed.

“Where you going?” I asked.

“I have to go,” he said. “I’ve been here too long anyway.” He slid the window open and put his hands on the windowsill. He stood there, bent over, looking outside like he was waiting for me to say something, but I didn’t know what to say. I’d been wondering if we’d kiss again when he left, and when it looked like we wouldn’t it made me realize how bad I’d wanted to. “Maybe I’ll see you at school,” he said. He put his foot outside and sat on the sill, and then he lifted his other foot through and slid out. I heard him drop to the ground.

Marcus didn’t come back to my window the next night or Sunday night either, and I didn’t see him at school on Monday because we weren’t in the same class. After school was over, he must’ve gone straight home because he didn’t hang around and play kickball with us like he usually did. He didn’t have to stay after school like me and Ruby. His mom usually got off work before he got home, and even if she didn’t he was allowed to be at home by himself. Most kids my age were, but not me. None of the kids from the home could be there without Miss Crawford or one of the other workers, so we had to hang around after school until someone came to pick us up in the van.

By Friday, I was half convinced I’d never see Marcus again. I told myself that if I ever did see him I’d tell everyone I knew that he was my boyfriend: Ruby, Miss Crawford, even Wade if he ever decided to show up again.

Saturday morning, after breakfast, Ruby hung out with some of the little kids and watched cartoons in the TV room. I stayed in our room and stared at the wall with a Nancy Drew mystery, The Case of the Disappearing Diamond, open on my lap, trying to figure out all the things Marcus could be thinking.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate enough to solve the mystery with Nancy if I was just going to sit there and think about something else while listening to the little kids laugh at cartoons a few rooms over, so I climbed off my bed and walked toward the office to ask Miss Crawford if she’d sign me on to one of the computers.

There were two computers in the study room for playing games and getting on the World Wide Web. I didn’t ever have any reason to get on the Web, but I liked hearing the loud, fuzzy sound of the phone line dialing. I thought that voice saying,“you’ve got mail,” was pretty neat, even though I’d never gotten an e-mail myself. I’d never had a reason to send one either. I liked getting on the computer for one thing only: Oregon Trail. I’d name two of the pioneers after me and Ruby and play for hours, and once the rest of them died off I’d pretend that it was just me and her in that wagon, shooting at turkeys and deer and floating across rivers on our way out West.

I walked past the computer room and peeked in to make sure one of the computers was open. A boy named Travis who was a few years younger than me was sitting at one of them. I couldn’t tell what he was looking at, but he had on earphones and I could hear rap music playing from where I stood; he nodded his head to the beat.

Hopefully somebody wouldn’t claim that other computer before I could get back, and I walked down the hall to the office; it was through a door just off the kitchen.

When I got closer I could hear a man’s voice, and I stopped in the kitchen and listened at the door. Miss Crawford was talking too, and she was being stern with somebody. Her voice sounded just like she looked: skinny and tough. She was old and had gray hair, but all of us knew she meant business, and nobody messed with her.

“Listen,” she said, “I ain’t the person you need to be talking to.” A file cabinet slid open, and I heard her take something out and slide the drawer closed.

“But they’re my kids,” the man’s voice said. I recognized it immediately; it was Wade. He sounded nervous and scared, completely different from how he’d acted when we’d seen him at the baseball field the week before.

“Not in the eyes of the court they ain’t,” Miss Crawford said. “Not legally. Their files say you gave them up in 1996, and you don’t get them back just because their mama died. You can’t just show up after school like you did or come over here on a Saturday morning and try to see them.”

“But when I signed that paper they said there was some kind of provision that gave me visitation rights. I remember that. I remember that from when I signed it.”

“There might’ve been,” Miss Crawford said. “That’s something you’re going to have to ask the judge about. Or you can contact their guardian ad litem, Brady Weller. Here’s his card.”

When I heard Brady Weller’s name I immediately pictured him. Me and Ruby had met him a couple times. The first time was the morning we woke up in the home after we’d moved in the night before. He was waiting for us in the living room with Miss Crawford. She told us who he was, and then she led us to the dining room table and left us alone. Brady was tall with short blond hair and bright blue eyes. He was older than Mom, but as soon as I saw him I couldn’t help but wish that she’d been friends with guys like Brady Weller instead of Calico. He set a couple of folders on the table in front of him, but he didn’t open them. I think he would’ve smiled at us if we’d been anybody else, but he seemed to know we probably wouldn’t feel like smiling back. “How do y’all like your new room?” he asked, leaning forward and putting his hands on the table.

Me and Ruby just sat there staring at the table. But then she looked up at me, and then she looked at Brady. “Our mom’s dead,” she finally said. Her eyes started filling up with tears.

Brady reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. “I know,” he said. “And I was awfully sorry to hear that. But this is a good place to be. Miss Crawford’s really nice, and she’s really excited about y’all being here. And I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”

Wade had gotten quiet on the other side of the door, and he must’ve been looking down at Brady’s card.

“Why do I even have to call anybody?” he asked. “They’re my kids.”

“I know that, Mr. Chesterfield,” Miss Crawford said. “But there’s just nothing else I can do for you.”

I imagined Wade staring at Miss Crawford with a look in his eyes that begged her to do anything she could do to help him. She must’ve seen the look I had in mind, because she said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Chesterfield, but this is just the way things have to be.”

“I get it,” he finally said. “But I don’t have a lot of time on my hands.”

“I understand,” she said.

“So just let me see them today,” he said. “I’m not asking for much. Just a few minutes. That’s all.”

Miss Crawford interrupted him. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t do that. I probably shouldn’t tell you what I’m about to tell you, but I want you to understand this situation. We’ve been in contact with the girls’ grandparents in Alaska, and they’re working really hard to adopt these girls, and so far they’ve done everything right, everything the court’s asked of them.”

“Well, that’s just great,” Wade said. “You need to know that those people haven’t ever laid eyes on these girls, not once in their whole lives. But me, I’m here . I want them. They’re my girls.”

“I understand,” Miss Crawford said. “But that’s not how the law works.”

“I know how the law works,” Wade said. “And I know it never works for people like me.” He was quiet for a second, and then his voice came out in a whisper. “Are you going to send my girls to Alaska?”